This is Not a Flu
by ciao-choker
Summary: Sarah watched as the infection slowly crept from Philadelphia into her hometown of Savannah, Georgia. Now she must escape before it can creep up on her.  I'm terrible with summaries, but you will not regret reading this story. Please give it a chance!
1. Chapter 1: The Green Flu

CHAPTER 1

The Green Flu. The Sickness. The infection rate. Casualties. CEDA. Evacuation. I had been hearing these words and phrases in a near-constant stream for the past two weeks or so. It was completely drenching every media outlet to the core and there was no way to escape knowing about it. You could always ignore it, of course, as I usually did to anything the news spewed forth from its venomous gut, especially when it came to big-hype deals like the Swine Flu. West Nile Virus. The Bird Flu. And now, the Green Flu. So why should I treat this any differently?

I remember where I was the first time I heard about it. The breakroom at my workplace was crowded with employees, including myself. I was actually on break from my repetitive job of waiting tables. They, however, were putting their duties on hold to huddle around the television screen as a swanky newscaster delivered her story.

"Thank you for tuning in," she began. I took another grateful drag off of my cigarette, happy to be off my feet for the moment and turned my back, rolling my eyes.

"Sarah, you might want to watch this," my boss, who also happened to be crammed in this very tiny breakroom, hissed in my direction. "My son called me from New York today telling me about this. It's scary shit. I knew there would be a story about it sometime, shit like this doesn't go unnoticed, it doesn't just get swept under the rug. It's the gov - "

"I don't care, Karen." I snarled back at her before she could ramble any further. "You can watch. This isn't what I get paid to do."

She grumbled an inaudible string of words and turned back to the television, lighting a cigarette of her own.

"Our top story this evening comes from the heart of the north, the city of apparent brotherly love: Philadelphia. Many cases have been reported of individuals coming down with what appears to be a mutated strain of the rabies virus. CEDA, the Civil Emergency and Defense Agency, has coined this the "Green Flu" due to the bright green mucus that the individuals who have succumbed to this infection often have. According to CEDA's latest reports, they believe they will be able to contain this virus to the quarantined areas. However, merely as a precaution, CEDA has begun to evacuate Philadelphia and the surrounding areas, believing this virus is spreading rapidly and is considered to be very dangerous. Preparations have been made..."

I stubbed my cigarette out in the dirty ashtray and stood up, heading towards the door. I would have much rather been on my feet again instead of finishing out the rest of my half hour break listening to the scaremongering on the tv. No one even batted an eye as I made my exit; their eyes were drawn to the telivision like a sunflower to the sun.

Now, two and a half weeks later, I would give anything to go back to that sweaty breakroom and hear the rest of that story, so I could atleast have an inkling of what to expect when the infection hit my hometown of Savannah, Georgia. And, boy, did it hit hard.


	2. Chapter 2: The Reaction

I started to take an interest in the story after a fairly intriguing man, who looked to be about twenty, which was also my age, came into my restaurant. He was accompanied by a younger woman, probably in her early teens, which I was assuming was his sister due to the almost identical appearance shared between them. They were seated in my section, and I could hear them discussing the situation whenever I would approach them. From eavesdropping, I gathered that they lived in a town beside Philadelphia, and had fled here to stay with a friend of his to escape what was happening up north. As I brought them their drinks (a Yueng-Ling for the mister, a Sprite for the missus), I nervously stood by their table, and practically lunged at them with my words:

"Is it really as bad as they say it is?" I asked, only then realizing how eager and anxious I sounded. I hadn't realized before this point how much interest I had actually taken.

"Excuse me?" He responded, in a low, raspy voice.

"That...Green Flu stuff. It's all over the news here. I tried to pay no mind to it.. but I saw the car you came in and noticed the plates were from Pennsylvania," - a blatant lie - "and I just wanted to ask," I was a mess at this point, slightly embarassed at the way I had approached the situation.

I believe he picked up on how I was feeling, and let out a dry chuckle, and half-smiled at me. "Oh, right." He exhaled deeply and took a sip of his beer. "Yeah, I definitely wouldn't say it's pretty around there right now." I stole a glance at the young woman he was with, a distant and sad look in her eyes. She was spinning the ice in her cup with her straw, hardly noticing my presence. "We came down here a few days ago.. shit's getting rough up there. Let's just pray it stays up there."

He stared at me for a bit, as if he were expecting something. I studied his face; it was rugged and looked as if he had neglected to shave for a few days. There was a scratch under his right eye that looked fairly fresh, and very deep. His hair was shaggy and a light blonde. I didn't realize I was staring until he said, "Uhm, sorry to interrupt whatever thought you're having right now, but my sister hasn't had a proper meal in about two days, so if you could go ahead and take our order..."

I shook myself and let out a nervous laugh. "Right, of course, I'm sorry. Excuse me." I cleared my throat and took out my notepad. "What will you be having?"

He looked at the girl across from him. "Malissa, what would you like to eat?" She didn't respond, or even look up. She just continued to stir the drink.

He sighed and looked up at me, handing me the menus. "We'll just take two cheeseburgers, please."

I nodded and took the menus, not bothering to write down the simple order. "I'll be back soon," I announced before heading back to the kitchen.

When I returned with their order, his sister wasn't at the table anymore. I assumed she was in the restroom or something of the like. I set the food down and took this oppurtunity to inquire further about what had happened.

"I'm sorry.. I know you don't know me and for me to be asking a complete stranger such questions may be a bit out of line, but I must know.. what exactly is happening to those people up there?"

Staring up at me solemnly, he nodded. "It's alright, I understand. I would be curious, too." He scratched his head. "It's.. frightening, to be honest. These people.. if you want to call them people.. they become so ravenous.." His voice trailed off and he got the same sad and distant look that his sister had earlier. "They have this look in their eyes, they aren't who they used to be. Even the children lose their innocence in a matter of seconds after they're bitten..."

"Bitten?" I exclaimed, horrified. "They go around biting people?"

With a slow nod, he explained that that was how the infection was spread. My mouth was wide open at this point. "We left after our parents were bitten. My father didn't come home for days and so my mother went looking for him. She came home in tears, saying she had found him and he had attacked her. Hours after, we noticed something changing in her. We tried - "

"COLIN!" I heard a loud shrieking voice yell from behind me, directed at the man I had been speaking with, "STOP TALKING ABOUT MOM AND DAD! WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP ABOUT THEM?" She kicked over a chair and began crying loudly. "All you ever do is talk about them and I don't want to think about them anymore!" She collapsed in the floor and her body began shaking in deep, heart-wrenching sobs. Colin stood up immediately and picked up his mourning sister from the floor, and, after laying a twenty on the table, quickly exited the building. Everyone's eyes were on them and they slowly turned to me. I cleaned up the mess she had made and retreated into the breakroom for an early break, to consider everything I had just heard.

As soon as I entered the breakroom I was bombarded by Karen, my boss. "Sarah, who the hell was out there shrieking like a witch? What on God's Earth happened?" Not wishing to satisfy her hunger for all things related to the Green Flu, I told her that I didn't know, that some child got upset and started screaming, but that she had left.

"Well, you need to get a better hold on your customers, or I'm going to have to let you go. Your attitude as of late has been really getting on my last nerve. And this just adds to it all."

I laughed in her face. Annoyed, I barked, "Don't worry about it. I quit. I'll be back for my last paycheck in a few days." I stormed out of the room and into the dining area. I grabbed my things from behind the counter at the hostess station and stomped out of the restaurant. I started fumbling for my keys as I made my way to my car, but was stopped halfway through the parking lot by Colin.

Startled, I let out a small gasp as he tapped my shoulder. "Excuse me," he said softly. "We were about to leave but I noticed you coming outside so I thought I would come apologize for the way my sister acted in there. She's been very sensitive and emotional since..well, you know. Anyway, I'm sorry for any trouble we might've caused. Here," he pulled out a pen from his back pocket and tore off a piece of cardboard from his cigarette case, and wrote his number on it. "Let me make it up to you sometime, okay? Just give me a call if you ever need anything. My name is Colin, by the way."

I smiled. "I'm Sarah. And thanks," I took the number and put it in my pocket and began walking to my car again. "I'll talk to you soon," I said, as I slid into my car.

What I didn't know was I'd be talking to him alot sooner than I had anticipated.


	3. Chapter 3: Patches

CHAPTER 3

Friday couldn't have come soon enough. I had run out of cigarettes the day before and all I had left in my cabinets was ramen noodle soup, and one can only eat that for so long before they'd rather starve than eat it again. I grabbed my car keys and headed out of my apartment, dreaming of what I was going to buy with my measely final paycheck. I was dreading having to face my angry boss for the final time, but then I reminded myself that I would never be forced to see her again. I smirked as I got into my car and started the engine. My favorite song was on the radio, which I assumed with a smile was a good sign.

When I got to the restaurant, there was hardly anyone there. I drew in a deep breath and turned my car off, stepping out out quickly and confidently. The morning sun was bright and garish and slightly blinding. I hurried into the restaurant and into Karen's office, where she was seated and on the phone. She glared up at me and without a word, shoved an envelope in my direction. I grabbed it and turned away immediately, not wanting to wait around for her to get off the phone and yell at me.

Before leaving, i decided to go into the breakroom a final time to say goodbye to the only coworker I considered a friend. To no surprise at all, the room was full of people puffing heavily on cigarettes and watching the news' ongoing coverage of the infection. My friend was not one of them. Letting out a sigh of disappointment, I began to turn around and leave.

"Sweet Jesus, it's in Tennessee," I heard a low, male voice mumble as he gazed at the telivison screen. For the first time, a tinge of panic crept up my spine as I turned to see what he was looking at. A map of the eastern side of the United States was shown, with heavy red markings throughout the northern states, and a considerably less, but still abundant, amount of red markings in the southern half. The markings indicated infection cases. It was apparent that the infection had not been contained, and that it was quickly making its way down south. My heart began beating rapidly and I quickly made my exit and practically ran to my car.

When I got in, the radio station I had been listening to was now broadcasting an emergency news channel. On instinct, I started to turn it off. The events I had just heard were finally setting into my brain. Panic. Fear. So, I let the station stay on. I needed to know what was happening.

"...spreading in a way that can only be described as terrifying. CEDA has asked that we begin preparing in the event that it may continue to reach lower-lying states, such as Georgia and the Carolinas. The CEDA Plan is as follows: Retrieve nessacary items such as ample food, water, prescription medications, and a first aid kit. Report any unusual behavior you notice in your peers. Do not take any action against them. Barricade your homes from any infected individuals you may encounter. Wait for official instruction. Evacuation centers will be designated if need be."

I put my car in gear and sped out of the parking lot and straight to the grocery store, feeling like a bit of a fool for buying into the media's hype. "Just to be safe," I told myself. Inside the store, I bought some food, water, two cartons of cigarettes, and a bottle of rum to ease my nerves.

I shuffled out to my car with the bags in one hand and my car keys in the other. I unlocked the trunk and dropped them in hurriedly, keeping the bottle of rum out so it wouldn't get smashed. Upon closing the trunk, I noticed something strange about twenty feet in front of the hood of my car. It was a man standing with his back to me, slightly slumped over, and sounded as if he were groaning. It was Patches, the town's token homeless alcoholic who wandered the streets in a drunken haze day in and day out. I had always been kind to him, because no one else would treat him with any dignity whatsoever.

I approached him slowly. "Patches?" I asked softly. "Is everything alright?"

The man grunted and spun around to face me. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, and there was vomit down the front of his tattered shirt. A nasty, green liquid dribbled down out of his mouth and down his chin.

"CEDA has coined this infection "The Green Flu" due to the bright green mucus individuals who have succumbed to the infection often have." The news report I had heard that day in the break room suddenly replayed itself in my mind. I then realized what was happening: this wasn't Patches. it may have been him at some point, but this was not him now. This was a man infected with the Green Flu.

He locked eyes with me before charging at me, his arms out towards me. He was growling. He was fast. But I was faster. I swung the bottle of rum i had in my hand and broke the glass over his head. He stumbled backwards and fell onto the ground, moaning again. I dropped the remnants of the bottle and rushed to my car. I started it and peeled out of the parking lot, shaking.

When I arrived home, I bolted my door shut and fell onto the couch, thinking about what I had just saw. What do I do now? I thought. Call the police. It was my first thought and I honestly had no idea what else could be done. I called and reported in detail what had just happened and where it had happened. They thanked me and said they were sending a dispatch team to the site to investigate, reccomending I go to the hospital and to be evaluated. I declined and hung up the phone.

"Tennessee, my ass," I mumbled. The infection was already in Savannah.


	4. Chapter 4: Here They Come!

CHAPTER 4

I was absolutely terrified. I put my dining room table and an armchair in front of my door, and drew my curtains tightly shut. I kept my television on CNN all day, every day, watching what was happening to the world outside. I had tried to contact everyone I knew in Savannah. I had no family here anymore, only friends. But every single call I tried gave no answer. I was alone, petrified, and had no one to talk to. I had not left my house in three days. I was afraid to see what awaited me if I did.

I would occaisionally peek through my window to see what was out there. All I saw were stumbling, dirty, green-bile-covered remains of what were once human beings. I could not believe my eyes. The news reports kept getting worse. There were so many infection cases. I was starting to wonder if I could have gotten infected by just being around Patches, that slime falling from his lips and onto the ground near me.

"The infection is spread through bites," Colin's voice rang out in my head. So, with a sigh of relief, I knew I was safe. I hadn't been bitten.

Colin! I need to get into contact with him! I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of him sooner. I jumped up and ran into the kitchen and grabbed my handbag. I dug through it momentarily before coming across the crumpled cardboard with his name on it. I nervously pulled out my cell phone and began dialing the number.

_Ring... _

_Ring..._

_Ring..._

Dear God, please answer your phone!

_Ring..._

_Ring..._

Please for the love of God ans -

"Hello? Who is this?" He sounded angry and irritated. Not scared like I knew I would sound.

"Colin? Hi.. this.. this is Sarah.. we met at the restaurant last week. I didn't know who else to call. No one is answering their phones. Are you seeing what's happ-"

"Where are you?" He barked.

"I'm at home."

"Give me your address. I'm coming over. I've got two guns and a quarter tank of gas. That's enough to get us to the evacuation center they are holding at the mall. This entire city is fucked. We need to get out."

This was all happening so fast. It took me a moment before I could respond.

"96 Piegeon Street. Do you know your way around? Its about two miles from the restaurant I work.. uh, worked at."

"I'm on my way. Stay inside!" Click.

I set my phone down and went into my room. I grabbed a first aid kit I always kept under my bed and I changed out of my pajamas into some shorts. The sweltering Savannah heat would not bode me well unless i was dressed appropriately. I threw on a tank top and tennis shoes and nervously waited for Colin to arrive. I peeked out of the window every few seconds, until finally he sped into the parking lot of my apartment complex. I moved the table and armchair from in front of the door, and ran out onto my balcony.

"Colin!" I shouted. "I'm up here!"

He noticed me and ran up the stairs to my apartment.

I let him in and slammed the door behind him. "I've got some food I bought the other day.. should I bring it?"

"No," he snapped. "There's no time. Here," he shoved an assault rifle in my hands. He had an automatic shotgun in his. I had never shot a gun in my life. I was scared just holding it.

"Where did you get these?" I asked nervously.

"Nevermind that. We need to get out of here. Do you have everything you need?" He asked as he pulled the curtain back, checking on what was happening outside.

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Alright, I'm gonna open this door. When I do, haul ass to my car. Don't worry about anything you might see. If anything comes after you-" I shuddered at the way he said anything instead of anyone. "- I'll cover your back. All you have to do is run. Got it?"

I nodded shakily. He opened the door. My feet were blurs underneath me as I ran as hard as I could to his car. I heard gunshots fire off behind me which made me run faster. I got to his car and hurried inside, setting my rifle at my feet. He quickly entered the car behind me.

In my panicked state, it had just occured to me that his sister wasn't with him anymore.

"Where's Malissa?" I asked as he started the car.

"I don't know," he responded quietly, backing out out of the parking even faster than he had pulled in. "I haven't seen her in days. I tried to go looking for her.. but it was pointless. She knows my number. She'll call." He said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that, rather than to inform me.

We drove along my road until we got to main street. About 5 miles or so ahead was the mall, but we wouldn't be getting there anytime soon. Main street was crowded with abandoned cars and trucks, most upright, but some were flipped over.

"SHIT!" He screamed, pounding his fists one hard, solid time against the steering wheel, causing his car horn to go off. In his frustration, he slammed his fists down on the horn a few more times. "We can't drive through this mess!"

I heard a loud, yet low grumbling noise. It sounded like the noise Patches made. But multiplied. By the hundreds.

"SHIT!" Colin screamed once again, looking in the rearview mirror and seeing the bodies from which the noise was coming from. "My damned horn must have attracted them. Get your gun, stay in the car, roll down your window, and shoot."

"But I've never shot a gun before! I'm going to kill someone!"

"That's the point. Aim, and pull the trigger. Just do it. NOW! Here they come!"


	5. Chapter 5: The Witch

**A/N:**** A HUGE thank you to my reviewers! I've gotten about 80 hits on the story since I published it last night, and only four reviews, but I am definitely not complaing - the reviews were wonderful. Quality ALWAYS outweighs quantity. So I'm pleased :]. Knowing that I am being read and appreciated gives me the motivation to continue writing. Thank you everyone who has taken time to read this work-in-progress. Please review! Criticism of any sort is welcomed. Reviews are like a giant glass of water for the soul of a thirsty writer.**

A deafening roar drowned out everything going on around me - the vicious noises from the throats of the grotesque creatures circling the car, as well as my horrified screams - as Colin unloaded multiple clips into the horde of infected behind us. They were running at the car, and fast. Their mouths were dripping with a repulsive mixture of blood and bile. Some were even foaming at the mouth. I grabbed the rifle and pointed it at the front of the car, where another group of them was running at us. I leaned out of the window and began blindly spraying bullets, praying I was hitting them. I apparently was, because when my gun quit firing and I opened my eyes, there was blood on the windshield and bodies lay strewn all around the car.

I sat back in the seat. breathing heavily. It was quiet again. I was thankful.

Colin exhaled loudly and handed me some ammunition, showing me how to reload the rifle, after he reloaded his shotgun.

He opened his door and came around to open mine. "Come on," he said, looking down at me.

"We're walking?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Well we are obviously not going to be able to drive through this. And we need to move fast if we want to get to the evacuation center before they leave us behind."

I stood up, clutching my rifle to my chest. It was all I had at this point that was keeping me from becoming one of them; one of those mindless, slaughtering beasts that were slowly devouring every inch of the east coast. I held it as if it were a child in my care. "Okay," I mumbled, and followed him.

We started walking through the mess in the street. The high noon sun glared down at us. There was an occasional straggling infected wandering randomly. Colin was a dead aim, a fantastic shot. He'd shoot it once in the head and we'd keep going.

It was like this for a good two miles. We hardly spoke except to warn the other of an incoming attack or a strange silhouette in the distance. That is, until I heard someone crying. I stopped in my tracks and stared straight forward. The cry sounded vaguely familiar. I just couldn't put my finger on it for the life of me.

"Do you hear that?" I asked softly.

"Hear what?" he grunted. The sobs were so faint it was almost inaudible.

"Listen close. It sounds like a girl crying. Maybe someone is still alive."

Colin paused for a moment and listened intently.

"Holy hell.. You're right. I hear it now."

We decided to investigate. He cocked his shotgun in preparation as we inched forward. The sound was coming from a dark crevice under the overpass we were about to go under.

"Hold on a minute," he whispered, putting his gun down by his side. "That sounds like Malissa."

He was right. I knew I had heard that same sob before!

"Malissa?" He called out and we ran closer to the bridge. There was no response except for the sobs, which were getting louder.

It was then that the boney sight of the young woman emerged from underneath the bridge wearing the same clothes she had been wearing the day at the restaurant, but this time they were blood stained and torn. Her hands were covering her face and she wandered around aimlessly, belting out deep, mournful sobs. She was barefoot, and her legs were filthy with dirt and caked blood.

"Malissa.." Colin lightly set down his gun as he approached her from behind and rested a cautious, comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's me, Colin. It's your brother. Where have you be-"

Suddenly, Malissa turned around and dropped her hands from her face. Her eyes were bright red and almost glowing. Colin released his grip on her and slowly backed away. She growled low and deep before letting out an ear-splitting shriek, startling us. She raised her lanky arms above her head before lunging at Colin, slashing her mutated, long nails which were practically claws against his cheek, splattering his blood on the ground and leaving a huge gash under the wound which was already present underneath his eye, as she was still screaming in terror.

"RUN!" He shouted, grabbing the shotgun he had dropped and unloading three bullets into his little sisters skull. She fell forward and he fell backward. With what once used to be his sister's corpse lying across him, he screamed and slid backwards, staring at her body with bewildered eyes. He was panting, trying to get a grasp on what had just happened. He brought an unsteady hand up to the fresh wound, wincing as he touched it. "Shit.." he mumbled.

I slowly approached him. "Colin.. I'm.. I'm sorry..."

He shook his head. "Don't be," he said weakly. "That wasn't Malissa anymore. That was something else. That infection got to her. That wasn't Malissa.." he trailed off. I suddenly remembered the first aid kit I had brought, and retreated to the car to retrieve it. I hurried back to him and crouched beside his hunched over form.

"Here, you're going to need this," I said, putting some antiseptic across his wound. He said nothing, and let me do it. I placed a bandage on top of the gash and closed my kit back up, strapping it onto my shoulder.

After a long moment of silence between the both of us, he finally choked out the word, "Thanks." I nodded in acknowledgement of his gratitude and rose to my feet, offering my hand out to help him up. He reached out and grabbed it. With a sharp pull, he was upright again. He backed away from where his sister lay, shaking off the vision of what had just happened.

"We need to keep moving," he stated sharply, wiping the fresh blood of his sister from his shotgun with the bottom of his shirt. "We're never going to make it at this rate," and, with a fleeting glance at his sister's still body, he marched forward in the direction of the mall.

As we walked, I began to replay the events of the day in my head: I had left behind every single thing I owned except for the clothes I was wearing and the shoes on my feet. Everything that meant anything to me was now destined to rot in what would surely be a quarantined death-area in a matter of days. I had shot, with very little hesitance, hundreds of human beings. Hundreds of lives that were destroyed in ways worse than mine had been. I had murdered. I had watched a grown man split his own sister's skull into pieces. The infection had already gotten inside of me. Even though I was not like them, even though I was not blood-thirsty and though I was not literally infected, I was infected and tormented with the thoughts and memories of what the infection of others had caused me to do; what I must continue to do if I want to survive.


End file.
